


An Unforgotten Melody

by MerHums



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Mycroft, Comfort, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Sex, First Meetings, Fluff and Smut, Genderfluid Character, Greg plays the guitar, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Missed Connections, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft Plays the Piano, Not unilock, Pronouns are confusing, Protective Anthea, Top Greg, Understanding, Virgin Mycroft, good guy Greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 13:16:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4021216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg and Mycroft meet for the first time in a bar. Fifteen years later, they meet again in a twist of fate. However, Mycroft is hiding a secret and Greg has no idea, doesn't even recognize who is standing in his office. But when Greg asks Mycroft out, the stakes are raised. Will they be able to make it together, even after memories are sparked and Mycroft's secret is revealed?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Unforgotten Melody

**Author's Note:**

> *This is NOT Unilock. This is a missed connections fic.  
> *Melody is a name that Mycroft used to play a role. Melody is not who Mycroft sees themselves as.  
> *Regarding pronouns: The authors have made a decision to keep the pronouns as they are. When the story is told from Greg's POV, Mycroft is referred to with he/him/his as Greg does not discover Mycroft's true self until the end. Mycroft on the other hand, refers to themselves as whatever gender they are identifying with. If you are confused as to the gender Mycroft currently is experiencing, look to their passages. If you are confused as to our methods, don't be afraid to drop us a comment! Generally, any shift is marked off with a time shift as well, and is denoted with a **
> 
> Thanks for reading!  
> ~Hums

Mycroft shifted, letting one leg cross over the other. Her skirt was riding up, and scowling, she tugged it back down. The bartender came back over, setting a glass in front of her and Mycroft smiled at him. She picked it up and turned, eyes exploring the pub. It was a clean, but busy place she knew she'd be able to blend in. 

Greg noticed the redhead at the bar as soon as he walked in. He ran a hand through his hair and looked around. She seemed to be alone, so he made his way over and ordered a pint. “Evening.”

Mycroft turned at the greeting, blinking at the grinning man. Leathers and hair shot through with silver, even though he couldn't be older than his late twenties. He got his pint from the bartender and sipped, still grinning. 

"Hello." 

“How are you doing this evening? I’m Greg.” He offered his hand.

"I'm well, thank you." She slipped her hand into his, sure not to take control of the gesture. 

“May I buy you a drink miss….?”

"Melody, sorry." Mycroft smiled. "And I've just gotten one, but if you'd like to stay around until I finish it, I'd be more than willing to have you buy me another." 

“I don’t mind. Do you go to school around here?”

"Of course. I've nearly finished. Final year," Mycroft responded. "You?" 

“Same. Must be taking different courses ‘cause I’m sure I’d have noticed you before now if we shared a class.”

No matter the day, Mycroft always went to class as male. Wouldn't do to have that secret come out in a busy pub, especially if they had shared a class. This man seemed to be on a social science track, maybe criminal justice, so... "What are you studying? I'm music, so I'm sure we would have seen each other if you were," she lied, distractedly taking a sip. 

“I’m going to be a cop,” he said. He reached for her hand and stopped himself. “You have elegant fingers. Piano? I play a bit of guitar myself.”

"That's right," Mycroft smiled. "Most people guess violin or voice. But no, I've played piano since I was very young." She reached her hand out, settling it over Greg's. "Would you like to sit down and chat? A booth has just opened up."

“Love to, thank you.” He held her hand and walked her over to the booth. Turning her hand over once they were settled, he gently ran a thumb over the tip of her fingers. “You don’t have the callouses of years of fret work.”

"And you noticed that? Incredible." Mycroft was slightly uneasy, this man obviously observant. "You'll make an excellent detective. If you plan on going that far." 

“Maybe one day,” he said, still petting her fingers. “At least I should finish high enough in my classes to get a position at the Yard. Just have to work my way up, do well on entrance exams. What about you, aiming for the symphony?”

"Oh no, I'm not that good. Just a place as an instructor hopefully. Perhaps compose some works, market them." 

“I bet you’ll be brilliant at it.” He gave her a warm smile and sipped his own drink.

"What about you? You said guitar, what style?" Mycroft asked, letting her hand rest around her drink. 

“A little bit of everything. Played in a punk band for a while."

"Really? Who did you cover? Or was it original songs?" Mycroft asked, genuinely interested now. This man was a set of alternates. Just like Mycroft. 

“A few of the classics, some of my own work. I really loved, it, just had to focus more on school. But I got one amazing summer out of it.”

"Did you sing or just play?" 

“Both. I’m not the best singer, but the good thing about punk is you don’t need to be.”

"True," Mycroft laughed, picking her glass up for another drink. "Oh," she said, holding up the empty tumbler. "Still interested in buying me a drink?" 

“Very much so.” He went to the bar and bought her a drink and himself a second one.

Mycroft watched as Greg joked with the bartender, an easy smile on his face. Carrying the drinks, he was stopped halfway to the table by a pretty, petite blonde, but she walked away with a frown as Greg gestured at the table. Mycroft coughed into her hand, willing the flush of her cheeks away. She smiled as Greg joined her again, and slid the drink across.

“Thank you. So, tell me about your songs.” 

Greg found it easy to talk to Melody. They finished their second drinks and started on their third as the night wore on. She was fascinating and Greg felt like he could listen to her talk forever. “May I take you home?” he asked.

Mycroft froze, swallowing. Lord, she wanted too. But she couldn't. "Not tonight, I'm afraid," she said, licking her lips nervously. "Perhaps another time." She smiled, and shuffled closer, knowing that this was a mistake. "But, I'd very much like to kiss you. If that's agreeable." 

"It is." Greg leaned in to kiss her, conscious of keeping his hands to himself and humming softly into plush lips. He was short of breath when they broke apart. "Let me give you my number, at least."

"Yes," Mycroft said, cupping his face and pressing their lips together again. She sighed as Greg's mouth opened under her, and she slipped her tongue in. He tasted like lager and faint mint, dizzying. She felt a flush cross her body and knew she had to pull away, before anything else took notice. She did with a regretful hum, Greg looking just as disappointed. 

Greg smiled over his disappointment and grabbed a bar napkin, writing down his number. "I hope we meet again soon." 

"I do as well," Mycroft smiled, taking the napkin and tucking it into her clutch. She stood and leaned forward, pressing a final kiss to his cheek. "Thank you." Standing properly, she moved away, ballet flats silent on the pub floor. 

 

**

Greg didn’t see her again. There was the rush of finishing the end of school and then training courses and by then he’d moved. He thought of her from time to time as the years passed and he’d be lying if he didn’t say he never thought what might of been. Sometimes he caught a glimpse of red hair in a crowd and tried to move closer, but it was never her.

A few years later he got married to someone else. They lost the child she was pregnant with a few months later. He took it hard, but tried to keep things together, even when he knew she’d turned to cheating on him. He threw himself into work instead and steadily climbed the ranks. By the time she left, Greg was so used to a quiet flat and an empty bed, it hardly made a difference.

 

**

Mycroft sighed as he was notified of his brother’s antics. He moved, opening the laptop. He was just in time to catch Sherlock being tossed into the back of a police car. He lifted his umbrella and moved, already summoning a lift to the station. 

He got there an hour later, Sherlock already in the holding cell. He was directed by a pale faced sergeant to an office. Not even glancing at the name on the door, he swept in and froze at the sight of silver hair. An old beaten up leather jacket hung in the corner, the patches eerily familiar. His throat clogged, and he was back at the bar, hair ruffled,the taste of dark lager and mint fresh on his tongue.

"Can I help you?" 

The voice startled him out of his reverie. He cleared his throat and took a seat. Be Mycroft Holmes. 

"I believe you've take my brother from a crime scene where he no doubt deduced your officers and made a ruckus, whilst solving your case. Am I correct?" 

Greg looked up, catching thinned red hair and blue eyes. He swallowed, all business. "If you mean Sherlock Holmes, yes."

"If you wouldn't mind, I'll be taking him with me now." Mycroft said coolly, looking at the handle of his umbrella. 

Greg leaned back. "Should have figured he came from posh," he sighed and took out some paperwork. "Look. He's damned clever but I already told him I can't have him on my cases high. If he sobers up, then maybe I can let him in."

Mycroft caught his eyes, still just the same soft velvety brown they were fifteen odd years ago. He swallowed, mouth dry. "You're willing to give him a chance?" 

Greg gave him a warm smile. "Sure. What he needs is something to hold his attention. What was your name, mister...?"

The name Melody nearly spilled from his lips, a remnant of a role he'd once played, but Mycroft caught himself. "Mycroft. Mycroft Holmes. And you, Inspector?" 

"Greg Lestrade." He offered his hand. 

"Pleasure," Mycroft said, shaking his hand.

Greg shook firmly. "Just sign here and we'll get him."

Minutes later, Sherlock scowling at his side, Mycroft inclined his head. "Thank you again, Inspector." 

"You're welcome." He looked Sherlock in the eyes. "Show up sober and you can help."

Sherlock looked away, rolling his eyes. Mycroft smiled grimly at Greg. "Until the next time." 

"Good luck." He handed him his card. "If you need anything."

"Thank you." 

**

It happened so gradually, Mycroft hardly noticed. They began to think of Gregory everyday. Female days were spent in a distracted discomfort, wondering if she was still attractive enough to please him. Male days were spent in a disappointed slump, knowing that Gregory would not find him appealing as a male. Or they did, until his security cameras caught him heading home with a decidedly male conquest. After that, Mycroft allowed themself their thoughts. Never at work and never in the presence of Sherlock. Only at night, safe and alone in their bed, did they take themselves in hand and work until Gregory's name was said in a breathless cry. To imagine how the man might feel, taste. How he would laugh and smile. Mycroft hadn't forgotten that one night, the feel of their tongues clashing together. The way Gregory had been, warm and welcoming, appealing. The way their body had reacted. The way they had felt desired, and how like never before they had desired back.

But one day, Mycroft's heart stopped in the middle of Gregory's office, on another trip to check in on Sherlock. She was dressed in a suit, unfortunately having had meetings all day, unable to work from home or the comfort of her office, and was uncomfortable in her skin. It was only being exacerbated by the stares she got as she entered the yard, the police still unused to her presence.

"What was that, Inspector?" Mycroft asked, dumbfounded. Surely he hadn't. 

Greg gave his usual smile. “I asked if you’d like to go to dinner with me. I know you aren’t just coming around to check on Sherlock.” The truth was he was more than a bit attracted to the besuited official. He’d had a thing for red hair ever since that night and even if Melody was only a long lost memory, maybe he could find something here. He’d do a damn sight better than he had the first time, a hurried marriage for a child that never came.

“I would...like that. Yes.” Mycroft said, heart pounding so hard she thought Greg must be able to hear it. 

Greg stood and came to his side, rubbing his fingers over an elegant hand. He felt a pang of memory but pushed it aside. “Now?” he asked.

“I…” Mycroft had planned to go home, strip out of her suit. Run a bath, put in her earrings. Do something to make this feeling of not right to go away, after being wrong all day, being male all day. “That would be lovely.” She had to, if only for a moment. 

Greg smiled warmly at Mycroft and reached for his coat. “Anywhere particular you want to go? Or there’s a nice pub just down the street.”

“I have no qualms about wherever you choose,” Mycroft said, mouth dry. “Lead on.” 

“Are you okay with this, really?” asked Greg as he led Mycroft out of the Yard and onto the street.

“Quite so. Why do you ask?” 

“You just seem nervous. I don’t bite,” he promised.

“Ah, lovely. I was so concerned,” Mycroft said dryly, trading a smile with the man. 

Greg wanted to reach out and take his arm, but men didn’t do that, guide each other. And they weren’t close enough to be holding hands. Especially not right in front of the office. “Come on, it’s just this way.”

“Wonderful.” Mycroft ached to reach out and take his hand, but it wasn’t done. Not in front of his workplace. They started off down the road, an odd, thick silence between them. 

Greg bit his lip, fully aware of the silence. He led Mycroft to a bar not far away and got the door for him, leading him to a booth in the back where they wouldn’t been seen or disturbed. Finally, he reached across and took Mycroft’s hand. He studied the manicured fingers. “You know,” he said, breaking the awkward silence, “you remind me of a girl I once knew.”

Mycroft felt her heart still. “Sorry?” she asked, swallowing nervously. 

“Oh, years ago now,” Greg his thumb over the tips of his fingers. “She had elegant hands. Gorgeous redhead. We kissed. I gave her my number, but I never heard from her again. I hope she’s a happily married piano teacher somewhere,” he sighed sadly.

“Oh. That is strange, isn’t it?” Mycroft said, looking down at the pleasant sensation of Greg’s hand on hers. “That’s nice,” she said quietly. “It’s been awhile since someone held my hand.” 

“I suppose I always felt like she was the one that got away. I was married for a while, didn’t work out.” He looked at Mycroft. “And I suppose I feel like I have a chance with you. Don’t want to let you slip away.”

Mycroft squeezed his hand gently. “Then perhaps, it is time for dinner and conversation. I am sorry, for what it’s worth.” And she was. It hadn’t crossed her mind that Greg might have remembered her, remembered “Melody”. 

“Thank you. Like I said, fifteen years ago, give or take.” He shook his head and waved over the waitress, ordering them drinks. 

“And then a marriage.” Mycroft said, nodding at the waitress as she left with their order. “I...do you mind if I ask? What happened?” Not that she didn't know. Gregory's file had been memorized after the first day.

Greg shrugged. “We only got married because there was an accident with the birth control. Then she miscarried two months later. About a year after that she started cheating on me. Eventually she left.”

“I’m so sorry, Gregory.” Mycroft said, heart going out to the man. 

“It’s all right.” He accepted the drink and took a swig. “Maybe it was my fault too. I threw myself into work. But we probably should never gotten married.”

“You loved her, though, yes? Or was it a marriage of convenience…?” 

“I thought I did. And I wanted to do right by my kid. Besides, it’s crazy to pine over someone you only ever kissed fifteen years ago, yeah?” He gave Mycroft a smile.

“Perhaps not. Have you ever considered tracking her down?” This was foolish. Mycroft would only get her heart broken, if not more. What would Gregory do if he found out? Leave... at best. He’d be so angry. 

“She never called me. I only ever had a first name. I could maybe search every piano teacher in England, but like I said, really I just hope she’s doing what she wanted to do and is maybe happily married somewhere.” He met Mycroft’s eyes. “You’re really concerned?”

“Yes, Gregory. I wouldn’t wish for you to be unhappy.” Mycroft said slowly, wanting desperately to tell him, to show the sides of herself that were hidden, always. Ease the pain she had accidentally caused.

Greg picked up Mycroft’s hand again and slowly brought it to his lips, kissing the knuckles. “I think you could make me happy.”

“I’d certainly like to try,” Mycroft replied, flushing as Greg’s lips moved over her skin. 

“You’re very attractive,” said Greg quietly, enjoying the flush.

“I’m really not. I’m quite ordinary,” Mycroft replied. “You however. Silver hair, dark eyes. Like a creature from a story book.” 

Greg chuckled. “I started going gray early.” He kissed the back of Mycroft’s hand. He ached to see what lay beneath those stuffy suits.

“Did you? I demand pictures.” 

“Got some back at my place...if you’d like to come.”

Mycroft bit her lip. She had an early morning meeting, but it could be rearranged. Not that Greg would be likely to ask her to stay. Anthea could be relied on to pick her up with a change of clothes, depending on how late and--. She noticed Greg looking a bit concerned, and realized she hadn’t responded. “Yes. I’d love to,” she said, nerves sparking with pleasure at the way Greg's gaze landed on her.

“Only if you’re comfortable.” He kissed Mycroft's hand again. “Shall I get us a cab?”

“Yes.” Mycroft smiled and Greg pulled her from the table, taking them out to the street and summoning a cab with powers to rival Sherlock’s. The drive was short, and Greg paid for the cab as Mycroft looked up at the plain building. Greg came up behind her, sliding their hands together again, and Mycroft allowed herself to be led up. They entered a rather bland apartment, beige walls, dark green couch, brown carpet. It looked as if the only personal touches Greg had tried for was the record player in one corner, and the guitar in the other. Mycroft squeezed his hand, and let Greg take her jacket. “I didn’t know you played,” she said, mentally adding the “still” to the end of the sentence. 

“Oh, yeah. Was in a band briefly. Not a very good one.” He went into his kitchen to whip something up. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“Very well.” Mycroft slid her shoes off, wandering over to the bookcase. She looked across the spines until she found a photo album. “Gregory? Is this blue album the one that contains my promised photographs?” 

“Yeah, go ahead and look, I don’t mind,” he called from the kitchen.

Mycroft sat on the couch, curling her legs up beside her. She opened the book, smiling at the picture of a teenage Greg in riding leathers, helmet tucked under his hand. He stood in front of a gleaming chrome machine, cheeky smile on his face. She turned the page, only to see Greg done up in eyeliner and smokey shadow, practically making love to a microphone stand in a shadowy club. “These are lovely,” she called back, examining some baby photographs slipped onto the next page. 

“I don’t know about that, but thank you. All my friends were shocked I became a cop.” He stuck his head out of the kitchen to smile before going back to work.

Mycroft kept turning pages, and shrugged out of her suit coat as the apartment grew warm. She could hear Greg humming in the kitchen and the sound put a foolish smile on her face. 

Greg came out of the kitchen with two plates. He set them on the coffee table, then went back for a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Probably better food than the pub anyway.” He poured them each a glass and settled on the sofa. “Find anything good in there?”

Mycroft looked up and smiled at him, taking the glass. “This one,” she said, tapping a photo of him crosslegged in the grass, guitar resting on his lap. “Will you play for me?”

“Sure. Anything you’d like to hear?”

“I don’t know if you know it. It’s an older song of course,” Mycroft hesitated. “Lola, by the Kinks. I just find it rather amusing and somewhat...sweet.” 

Greg chuckled. "Only if I'm old." He set his plate aside and grabbed the guitar, quickly tuning it before breaking into the song. 

Mycroft watched, smiling slightly at the little growl Greg slid into the song. When he finished, Mycroft nodded as their eyes met. “That was lovely, Gregory, thank you. You are quite talented.” 

Greg leaned toward him. "May I kiss you?"

"Please," Mycroft replied. 

Greg closed the gap and kissed him, trying to be soft, but there was hunger there as well. He tasted like an echo of things lost and Greg found himself putting the guitar aside and pulling him closer. 

Mycroft let Greg pull her closer, opened her lips to his questioning tongue. She slid her hands up his arms to clutch at his biceps and sighed into the kiss. It was perfect and inviting, like coming home. 

Greg smiled against the kiss and deepened it, finding himself pressing her against the couch. “I want you,” he growled softly as he broke the kiss to nibble her throat.

Mycroft gasped as his teeth grazed over her throat. Her cock was hard already, flush moving up her body. She threaded a hand through his hair as her mind warred with want and nerves. "I...that would. Yes, Gregory." She managed to stammer out. "Please." 

Greg’s fingers went to the buttons of Mycroft’s shirt. “You’re always so beautiful,” he purred.

Mycroft swallowed, watching Gregory unbutton her shirt, pull it off. She thanked anyone who might listen that she hadn't been able to put on her normal panties and camisole and was just in black silky pants. Completely natural for a man. She licked her lips as Gregory stared at her. "I'm not much to look at," she said softly, aware of her plush belly, the little pockets of plump padding her body. 

“Gorgeous,” said Greg, smoothing hands along his skin. “Did you want to take it to the bedroom?"

"I.." Mycroft bit her lip, stalling. Should she tell? 

“You’re safe with me, sweetheart,” said Greg, running fingers through his hair.

"I know," Mycroft murmured, pressing up into the touch. "Kiss me again?" She met his eyes, gaze pleading for him to somehow understand, to realize, without her having to say those damning words. 

Greg kissed him again, then wrapped an arm around him to help him down to the bedroom. He wanted Mycroft naked and spread beneath him, the sooner the better.

Mycroft gasped as her back hit the mattress, Greg tugging her trousers off and away. She laid her head back against the pillows, trying to calm her racing heart as Greg's fingers danced over her skin. 

“Been wanting you,” said Greg, kneeling over Mycroft and stripping out of his own clothes as they kissed.

Mycroft moved into the kiss, letting it soothe her nerves. She needed to tell him, before anything more were to happen. "Gregory, wait," she gasped as Greg's knees pushed between her legs, spreading them wide. 

Gregory stopped immediately. “Yes?” he asked leaning back on his haunches to give Mycroft space.

Mycroft closed her eyes, blushing deep red. "I've never....not with anyone." She pulled her arms up, hiding her face. "I'm sorry, I just..." 

Greg leaned forward again to kiss Mycroft’s breastbone. “Do you want to?” he asked, aching to fill him up but perfectly willing to stop if Mycroft needed more time.

"I want you. I want this with you," Mycroft murmured, threading a shaky hand through his hair. 

Greg leaned in to kiss him again. “I’ll take good care of you.” He reached into his bedside drawer for lube and a condom. He kissed down Mycroft’s body to take his cock in his mouth as he stroked his entrance.

Mycroft spread her legs wider, breath stuttering at Greg's mouth on her, fingers teasing her. "Gregory, please." 

Greg pushed a finger inside, watching his face to make sure it wasn’t too much.

"Oh god," Mycroft said faintly, the feeling of one finger setting her body off, telling her to beg for more, faster. She wanted to be filled. "More." 

Greg added a second, working him open, scissoring his fingers, trying to make sure Mycroft was fully prepared.

"It's good," Mycroft murmured, loving the stretch. It felt right. 

“I’m glad.” He kissed the head of his cock and then moved up to kiss his lips.

Mycroft could taste herself on him, and moved to deepen the kiss, wanting more. 

Greg withdrew his fingers and ripped open the condom, rolling it on blind as he moved up between Mycroft’s legs.

Mycroft nodded, catching his gaze as his cock pressed against her. "Please." She reached out, hands sliding over his skin. "Take me, Gregory." 

Kissing him again, Greg pushed inside, moving slowly, making sure he had time to adjust. Once he was fully seated, he started to thrust, dropping a hand down to stroke him.

Mycroft dragged her nails over his back, gasping at each thrust. She was full, stretched wide, and she needed more. Greg's hand on her cock was hot and a tinge of desperation was already washing her body, making her tense with the effort not to come.

“It’s okay, you can come, beautiful. I know how the first time can be.”

Mycroft moaned and came at Greg's gentle voice, cock jumping in his hand. She chased his mouth, blindly searching it out, wanting the connection as her nerves sang. 

Greg swallowed his cries, giving a few more thrusts and following him over. It had been far too long to hold out and he felt so very good underneath him.

"Ah!" Mycroft panted, body arching as Greg filled the condom. He pulled out and she whimpered at the loss. The empty feeling was too much, and she suddenly wanted to cry. Tears filling her eyes, she buried her face in Greg's shoulder, fighting against them falling. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay love, I’m right here.” Greg held Mycroft close.

“Thank you,” Mycroft whispered, swallowing around the lump in her throat. It felt nice like this, when she could almost pretend that it would last. She tucked her body closer around his, letting the steady beat of his heart soothe her aching mind. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” He ran fingers through his hair. “I...I like you a lot. I hope this can be more than just a one time thing.”

“I’d like that.” Mycroft murmured, aware of the lies she'd have to tell, live to make it so. “Should I...should I go?” 

“You don’t have to. I like having you here.” Greg kissed his forehead. “Let me just bin this condom and clean you up, then we can sleep, okay?” 

“Okay.” Mycroft nodded, shifting so Greg could move off of the bed. She watched as he disappeared down the hall before returning with a flannel. 

Greg kissed him again and wiped him up. He tossed the flannel at the loo and climbed back in, pulling the sheets over them and tucking Mycroft against his side, wrapped securely in his arms.

Mycroft pressed a kiss to his neck, letting him hold her close. His hand rested warm and safe on her hip and she took comfort in his steady breathing until eventually, her eyes slid shut. 

**

Greg woke first in the morning and looked down at the red hair on his shoulder. For a moment he saw Melody and his heart twisted. He pushed those thoughts aside. Melody was a dream. Mycroft was here in his arms. He kissed the top of his head and carefully slipped out to make them breakfast.

Mycroft woke to the smell of rashers frying and froze before remembering where he was. He smiled ruefully down at his body, before stretching, wincing at the sore muscles. He moved from the bed, wrapping himself in the robe hanging from the door. He padded down the hall to the tiny kitchen, pausing in the doorway as Greg flipped a pancake. 

“Good morning, Gregory,” he murmured, crossing his arms in an effort to shield his nerves. The morning after was not something he had ever experienced. 

“Good morning. There’s coffee if you want it or I can put the kettle on for tea.”

“Tea would be lovely,” Mycroft said, coming forward. “Is there anything I can do? That looks delicious.” 

“Well, there’s the kettle if you want to put it on. Set the table if you like?” Greg looked at him, liking the way he looked in his robe.

Mycroft nodded, filling the kettle and moving dishes to the table. He was distinctly aware of Greg’s gaze on his legs and he swallowed, cock twitching at the thought of another tumble. 

“You’re still beautiful in the morning,” smiled Greg, bringing the food to the table and leaning in to take a kiss.

Mycroft met his movement happily, bringing a hand up to cup his face. “I’ll do,” he murmured, stroking his cheek. 

Greg kissed him again. “Come on, we didn’t eat enough last night. Have to keep our energy up.”

Mycroft smiled. “Pancakes? Truly, you are a marvel.” 

Chuckling, Greg kissed him one more time before digging in to eat.

Mycroft ate a bit slower, aware of each bite bursting into flavor in his mouth. His eyes followed the progress of Greg, watching his tongue slid over his lips, chasing an errant drip of honey. 

Greg caught his eyes. With a bit of a wicked smile he dribbled some honey on his fingers and started sucking it off.

Mycroft flushed, looking back down at his plate, willing his cock to stay down. He picked up a bite of bacon, putting it into his mouth quickly. 

Greg laughed softly. “Don’t like?” he teased, licking his lips.

“Like a bit too much.” Mycroft replied, looking up at him. 

Grinning, Greg, slipped to his knees and moved forward, reaching for the belt of the robe. “I love the taste of you.”

Mycroft let out a slow breath, nodding and spreading his legs for Greg to move closer. “Show me how much?” 

Greg slowly licked up his shaft, looking up through his thick lashes.

Mycroft trembled, reaching a hand out to place it on Greg’s head. “More?” 

Greg swallowed his cock, relaxing his throat as he bobbed his head up and down.

“Oh!” This was better than last night. Mycroft was able to see every strand of silver hair, every jump of the muscles in Greg’s bared neck and back. His nose was filled with the scent of honey and Greg, body already tightening as the man swallowed around him. “Gregory, easy,” he choked out, wanting this to last, never wanting his attentions to end. “Not yet.” 

Greg lifted his head and kissed his hip. "No?" 

Mycroft shook his head. “Want it to last,” he murmured, tugging Greg up. “Hello, Gregory.” he said quietly, leaning in for a kiss. 

"Mycroft," he kissed him back, sitting in his lap. 

Mycroft smiled against his lips, letting his hands move to Greg’s hips. He tilted his head, aiming to deepen this kiss when his phone began to ring, breaking the moment. “Damn,” Mycroft cursed, recognizing the tone as the emergency number. “I’m sorry, they wouldn’t call unless it was necessary.” 

"It’s fine, I understand." Greg smiled and vacated his lap. "Go save the world." He didn't know what exactly Mycroft did but he knew it had to do with the government. 

Mycroft threw him a disappointed look, but went to fetch the phone. He came back in a few minutes, fully dressed. “I’ll have to leave now. I’m sorry we didn’t get to finish...breakfast.” Greg had moved back to a chair and made to get up, though Mycroft stopped him with a hand. “No, please.” He came forward, kissing him deeply. “We will do this again, yes?” 

“Call me anytime.” And he really hoped there would be a call this time.

“I will.” He leaned forward and pressed a final kiss to his cheek. “Thank you.” With that he left, oxfords silent on the linoleum flooring. 

Greg tried not to get his hopes up as he got dressed and went to work. Still, he couldn’t help but be anxious for a phone call. He didn’t want Mycroft to become another Melody. He wasn’t sure his heart could handle that.

**

Mycroft tapped his finger gently against the phone, trying to work up the nerve to call Greg. He hadn’t spoken to the inspector in over two weeks having had an emergency trip to China. With a sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed, hoping that it wasn’t a mistake. 

Greg grabbed the phone after the first ring. “Mycroft?” His heart pounded in his chest. He’d been waiting and hoping, but he’d almost given up that hope.

“Hello Gregory.” Mycroft couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face. “I’m sorry I haven’t contacted you sooner, I was called unexpectedly out of the country.” 

Greg leaned back in his chair. “I was afraid I’d chased you off,” he said honestly. “Are you back, then?”

“Yes, I am. With a surprisingly clear schedule for the next two days,” Mycroft said hesitantly. “If you would like to...arrange a meeting, I would certainly be agreeable.” 

“I can take some time off work. My place or yours? I… really want to see you.”

“If you wouldn’t mind, I believe it is my turn to host,” Mycroft said, relieved. “I could order in?” 

“All right, should I bring a bag for...overnight?”

Mycroft’s mouth went dry at the image of Gregory in his bed, spread out across his sheets. “That would be nice,” Mycroft replied, licking his lips. 

“All right. And… I got tested, just in case. I’ll bring the results and it’s up to you if we use protection or not. Where am I going?”

Mycroft gave his address and said his goodbyes, hanging up the phone with a shaking hand. He closed his eyes and sighed, hoping that he could control himself when the time came. 

It didn’t take very long for Greg to throw a bag together with the paperwork from the test on top. On a whim he also grabbed his guitar and threw it in the back seat. He nervously drummed his fingers on the wheel as he drove, hoping this would all go well.

Anthea waited, moving down to greet the inspector at the door before Mycroft could hear his arrival. She smiled at the surprised look on his face. “Hello inspector.” 

“Ma’am?” said Greg

“Yes, I am.” Anthea’s smile turned wicked. “Mycroft was not expecting you yet. You’ll find him up in the study with the piano. For now, you and I are going to have a chat. What are your intentions toward my employer?”

Greg blinked. “I like him a lot. I don’t know beyond that. But if you want to know the honest truth I was scared when he hadn’t called me these last two weeks.”

“And you are aware that his work is demanding, his personality odd, and his family overwhelming? That you were the first person outside of family he let close enough to see underneath his shell?”

“No, I didn’t. Well, I could figure the thing about his family, I work with Sherlock. But I honestly care about him. Do you know he’s the first person I’ve really trusted since before my wife left?”

“Yes. I know everything about you, Gregory Lestrade.” Anthea let a bit more bite come out in her gaze, more danger into her smile. “And do not think that if you hurt him your life will remain your own. There are many benefits to being the shadow of the British Government.” She stepped away, tilting her head toward the door. “The study is the third door, second floor. You may go now.” 

“Ye ma’am,” Greg bowed his head in acknowledgement, adjusted his bag and guitar and went on inside. He quickly reached the study and stopped in the doorway, watching Mycroft play, feeling his heart ache as he watched.

Mycroft sighed as he finished the song, and shut the piano to go wait for Gregory. He pushed the bench back, turning around, freezing at the man in the doorway. “You’re early.” 

“I wanted to see you.” Greg put the bag and guitar down. “That was beautiful,” he said as he cautiously approached.

“Thank you. It was...one of my own,” Mycroft said, holding out a hand. 

Greg took it and kissed his fingers, then leaned in to kiss his lips. “I missed you. And I brought my guitar, if you’d...like to play something together.”

“That would be lovely,” Mycroft murmured, kissing him back. “I did find myself thinking of you while I was gone. You are a terrible distraction, Gregory Lestrade.” 

“I could say the same about you.” He went and grabbed his guitar, taking up a side of the bench. “Play something.”

“Anything?” Mycroft asked, settling back down and opening the piano once more.

“Anything. I’ll follow your lead.”

Mycroft nodded, taking the answer for the statement it was and began a soft song, easy for Greg to pick up. His fingers moved across the keys as he kept his eyes fixed on the guitarist. 

Greg smiled warmly at him, easily following, glad he’d learned some traditional guitar work. When Mycroft finally brought the song to the end, Greg found his heart racing, wondering, hoping. It wasn’t possible, was it? Just wishful thinking? “That was a beautiful….Melody.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft said, heart in his throat. Greg couldn’t know, he’d just chosen that word on random. “If you’ll excuse me, I do need to order dinner, you were early. I’ll just be a moment,” he said hurriedly, standing to make an escape before everything fell down around him. 

“Mycroft….” Greg caught his hand. His heart was beating in his ears. He felt like he was trying to catch a butterfly without crushing it. “Whatever….happens, no matter what, I like you. All of you.” He felt those elegant fingers in his hands and remembered the bar and her smile and how he could listen to her talk for hours.

“I...Don’t, don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Mycroft whispered, strangely close to tears at the feel of Greg’s hand on his. “Please.” 

“I never do. And I promise, nothing can change the way I feel about you.”

Mycroft swallowed, heart beating fast. He leaned in, catching Greg for what might be their last kiss. “Stay here,” he murmured. “Just stay.” He pulled away, leaving the room. 

“Not going anywhere,” he murmured, setting his guitar aside and waiting patiently. He hoped there was a reason why he was reminded of Melody every time he was near Mycroft.

Just when he was beginning to wonder if he should go after him, Melody stepped nervously into the room. Greg was on his feet in a moment, crossing the room and gathering her in a deep kiss.

“Gregory, please let me explain,” Mycroft said, gasping against his lips. “You don’t know.” He was shaking with relief and adrenaline in the man's arms, aware that Gregory wasn’t disgusted, wasn’t laughing or shouting. 

Greg stepped back, still holding Melody’s hand. He led him to a sofa and sat them down before their knees gave out. “I’m listening,” he said gently.

“I’m not her. Not Melody, that was just a name. I’m Mycroft always. I just...sometimes it’s better this way. Sometimes I wake up and my body doesn’t match my mind,” Mycroft said. “So if it’s that type of day and I’m able, I dress like someone named Melody would. I can’t always, I can’t let people find out.” 

“Because your job and your personal safety, I’d imagine?” asked Greg.

“Yes. I can’t be seen as deviant,” Mycroft replied. “Right now, I’m Mycroft. Him, he, his. On another day, I might be Mycroft, she, her, hers. I keep it straight within my head and only a few people know. Sherlock. My parents. Anthea. And now….you.” 

“Okay. And Mycroft? I’ve loved you for fifteen years. This isn’t going to change anything.” Greg met Mycroft’s eyes, wanting him to understand.

“Don’t say that, you can’t mean it,” Mycroft choked out. “You have no reason to.” He shook his head, looking down as his eyes filled again. “I’m not what you think.” 

“You’re brilliant. You play gorgeous piano. You love your brother. You’re beautiful whether you’re female or male.” Greg tilted his chin and leaned in to kiss him.

Mycroft kissed him back, desperate in the face of this utter acceptance. He wrapped his arms around him, pushing him back against the cushions, straddling his waist. 

Greg moaned, relaxing in his grip, willing to let Mycroft do whatever he wanted. He ran his hands up his sides.

“I want you.” Mycroft murmured, eyes full of tears as he kissed along Greg’s neck. “Please. Come to bed with me” 

“Yes. Whatever you want love. If you want to take me, that’s fine. I’ve been tested, the results are in my bag. But I’ve got condoms too, if you’d rather.”

"Want to feel you inside me," Mycroft countered, laying his head on Greg's chest for a moment, seeking the heartbeat that lay beneath the cover of cotton. "Want to know what it feels like with just us." He looked up meeting Greg's eyes. "Is it too much? Am I?"

“No, never. You’ll just have to let me know what gender if I get it wrong, that’s all, love.” Greg kissed him again. “You’re beautiful. Now where’s the bed you were talking about?” 

"This way." Mycroft stood, pulling him down the hall and pushing open the bedroom door. 

Greg smiled and leaned in to kiss him again. “How do you want me?”

Mycroft blushed, looking away. "I'd like to...be on top. To ride you," he muttered. 

“Okay. No secrets between us, yeah? Well except your government mandated ones, of course.”

"Yes Gregory," Mycroft whispered, feeling foolish at his doubts. 

“It’s okay, really,” said Greg, peeling off his shirt. “I mean it Mycroft, I love you. This is unexpected, sure, but I love all of you, no matter what.”

“I knew it was you,” Mycroft admitted. “The first day I stepped into your office for Sherlock. I couldn’t believe that I’d found you again.” He ran his hands over Greg’s chest, delighting in the silvery grey hair. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

“You seemed familiar, but I had no idea, not until I woke up that morning and saw you sleeping next to me. Can I ask, why you never called? Was it this?”

Mycroft nodded his shame and regret. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't. I couldn't risk it. I still have the napkin you gave me. Even in all this time, I've never found anyone who was so easy to talk to." 

“I felt the same way. That’s why I say I’ve never stopped loving you. I don’t know how I would have reacted fifteen years ago. Part of me wishes you’d have given me a chance. But I understand why you didn’t. And maybe we can make it right. Now.”

"Please." Mycroft led him over to the bed, sitting on the edge.

Greg leaned in and kissed him, stripping the rest of his clothes off. He smiled warmly and climbed into the bed, slowly stroking his cock. 

Mycroft turned to look at him, fingers going to the buttons of his blouse and steadily opening them. He hadn't put anything on underneath, but with the look on Greg's face it didn't matter. He stood nervously, unzipping his skirt and letting it fall. 

“God, you’re gorgeous.”

"I'm not," Mycroft said, blushing as he slipped into the bed. He reached out, pulling Greg to him. 

“Yeah, you are.” Greg leaned in and kissed him gently.

Mycroft shook his head and leaned into the kiss, seeking Greg's touch. "I want you," he murmured, taking his hand and guiding it down. 

Greg stroked his entrance. “Lube?”

“In the drawer,” Mycroft said, kissing his shoulder. 

“Can you get it for me?”

“Yes.” Mycroft moved over, reaching in the drawer for it and coming back and sitting atop Greg’s thighs. 

Greg smiled and ran his hands along creamy skin. “I feel like the luckiest man alive.” He coated his fingers.

Mycroft leaned forward, letting Greg run his hands over his arse.

“Yeah. I’m gonna fill you up Mycroft. Make you scream my name.”

Mycroft's eyes went wide, breath stuttering as Greg pushed two fingers into him. "Oh god," he breathed, leaning back at the pressure. 

Greg stroked his prostate with a grin.

Mycroft let his eyes close, moaning. 

“That’s right. You’re mine, love and I’m going to make you feel so very, very good.”

"Please, Gregory. I want you." 

Greg withdrew his fingers and shifted Mycroft up, pulling him down onto his cock all at once.

Mycroft cried out as he was filled, rocking back against him. 

Greg grabbed his hips, angling to hit his prostate with every thrust.

Mycroft shuddered, bowing down to kiss him. "Please, please," he murmured, licking his way into Greg's mouth with desperation. 

Greg fucked him good, holding him in place as he delivered his pleasure.

"Ah, Gregory." Mycroft's thighs were trembling, sweat beading on his skin as he rode his thrusts. 

“You gonna come for me, baby?”

"Ye..yes," Mycroft panted. He was stretched so wide, filled so much he could hardly think. "Please, touch me." 

Greg wrapped a hand around his cock and jerked him off, thrusts growing erratic.

"Gregory, please," Mycroft gasped, rocking his hips down. "I'm going to come." 

“Do it. I wanna see you.”

Mycroft cried out, spurting over his hand. "Come. Wanna feel you," he muttered, chest heaving. 

Greg fucked up into him a little harder and was buried deep in his lover when he came. 

Mycroft all but fell onto him as he was filled, seizing his mouth in a bruising kiss. 

Greg groaned into his mouth, rolling them over and grinding into him.

Mycroft keened, panting desperately as they rolled their hips together. “You, always been. Waited so long.” 

“Never letting you go.”

Mycroft sobbed out a breath, holding him as tight as he could. “Lo..love you. I love you.” 

Greg felt his heart aching. “I love you too, my Mycroft.”

“My Gregory," Mycroft whispered as Greg pulled out, curling into him. “Thank you,” he whispered, closing his eyes against the gentle hands drawing him closer. 

**

Mycroft woke up early, blinking into the dim light. She turned, smiling as Greg shifted his arms around her. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead before slipping out. 

She puttered around for a bit, feeling as if she was floating in mid air, and decided to start on breakfast, far too happy to focus on much else. Mycroft whipped up some muffins and popped them into the oven before starting coffee and sitting down to read the paper. 

Greg stretched at the smell of cooking breakfast. It took him a moment to remember where he was, but when he did he smiled broadly. Pulling on some clothes he went downstairs. “Good morning,” he said, kissing Mycroft.

Mycroft leaned back in the chair, smiling up at him. "Good morning, Gregory. Coffee is ready." 

“Allright, and I just want to make sure,” he said, pouring himself a mug. “What am I calling you today?”

"Mycroft. As always," Mycroft said, folding her paper and setting it aside. "I find my name is original enough that I have no desire to choose a more common genderless name. However, if you were speaking to another about me, you would use feminine pronouns." She stood and came over, sliding her arms around Greg's waist. "For example, you could say, 'Mycroft was very pleased to see me this morning. She even made blueberry muffins.'" She pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. 

“All right. Just… if I mess up, let me know. Maybe we can come up with some way for you to let me know which gender we’re using on a given day?”

"I will let you know," Mycroft said, releasing him and grabbing pot holders. "The best way to know is just to ask me, but sometimes I won't be able to discuss it." She moved to open the oven, pulling the muffins out. "Not because I don't want too, but it won't be safe. Practice is the best way." Setting them on the counter, she came forward and smiled down at him. "You're trying. That's what matters."

“Thanks.” Greg kissed her. “I’ll do my best. I’ve waited all the time for a second chance with you, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Mycroft smiled, and reached over for an empty mug. "We can eat in the garden, if you like," she said, pouring herself some coffee.

“That sounds marvelous.” Greg followed her outside and took her hand, just glad that he was no longer pining after a dream. He knew that he would be here for Mycroft, come what may, and nothing could keep them apart.


	2. Cover for "An Unforgotten Melody"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cover created for "An Unforgotten Melody".

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)!


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